


(un)spoken

by sarebear



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: General spoilers for Re:vale's backstory, Happy Ending, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Major Re:member spoilers, Mild Part 3 Spoilers, Time Skips, Yuki-centric, but also deviates from Re:member canon, part 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarebear/pseuds/sarebear
Summary: Yuki's relationship with words changes over the years.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Momo/Yuki (IDOLiSH7), Oogami Banri & Yuki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	(un)spoken

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to Bandai Namco!

At eight years old, Yuki learns there is very little value in speaking. 

It’s the little things that tip him off – a sigh from his mother when he asks her if she can make fried tofu for dinner, his father falling asleep while Yuki informs him about a school trip, the way his parents’ congratulations become notes become silence when he turns six, then seven, then eight. Yuki stops checking to see if his parents are home in the mornings before school, starts retreating into his bedroom when a key turns in the lock. After a while, speaking starts to feel like a memory and so he lies on his floor and whispers half-baked phrases to himself. He feels small in this apartment meant for three, where his voice hits the air and vanishes immediately after. 

(Singing, though, fills the space around him, bites back at the suffocating silence, reduces the reality of his loneliness into a mere fact. _I am lonely_ becomes _I am alone._ It’s enough of a difference to matter.)

When his mother’s makeup can no longer conceal the exhaustion lining her eyes, when his father comes home irritated by a customer’s critique of his jazz collection, when his parents forget to leave money for food on the dining table – Yuki finds it easier to melt into the background and let things take their course. 

His parents don’t need his words the few times they’re home. They barely need each other’s.

  


* * *

  


“We’re very sorry for the damage!” 

Ban bows to the coffee shop owner, bangs hanging low over his face. Yuki stands several steps behind him, one hand on his guitar strap and the other by his side. The owner, a thin man clad in a patchy brown jacket and jeans, sighs heavily and massages his jaw. 

“Look, you kids are talented, but I can’t justify letting you gig here going forward.” The owner gestures to the overturned tables, to the broken bottles of beer and sake around them. One of their former band members, a bassist whose name Yuki has forgotten, had crashed their show in a drunken rampage. His sloppy fingers have caused enough in damages that he and Ban won’t be getting paid for their performance tonight. “You should be more careful about the type of crowd you attract and the enemies you make. Especially you, young man—” arms crossed, a curt nod in Yuki’s direction “—your attitude is a liability in an industry like this one.” 

Yuki meets the owner’s stare unflinchingly. Ban straightens his back, offers another apology and an assurance that they understand before grabbing Yuki and rushing out of the café, onto the sidewalk outside. It’s drizzling, hard enough that Yuki holds his guitar case a little closer to his body as they walk to the train station. 

Ban is quiet as they round the corner. It’s dark out, and the only people on the sidewalk are shopkeepers hurrying home and kids their age looking for trouble. _This is not a nice neighborhood_ , Yuki thinks idly. They dodge a crowd of men taunting an officer in front of a liquor shop, Ban pressing close to Yuki’s side and steering him across the street. 

“Man,” Ban says when they finally descend into the station. Yuki glances sideways at Ban, who stretches his arms above his head and releases a long sigh. “We should probably stick to traditional concert venues, huh?” 

Yuki hums noncommittally. Arranging venues, talking with owners, keeping track of contacts – that’s Ban’s territory. All Yuki cares about is his and Ban’s music. 

“Yuki, don’t tell me… are you pissed at what Watanabe-san said?” 

“I’m not that sensitive,” Yuki retorts, and he’s not. The owner’s words are merely another critique to join the ranks of what feels like thousands. His attitude, his looks, his personality – none of it matters if he can compose and sing onstage with Ban. 

Ban huffs a little, then turns to face Yuki with a half-smile. “Well, you’re not a burden, if you’re wondering.” 

“I don’t care,” Yuki insists. “Anyway, don’t you think we should change the bridge of this song? If we lower this note a half step…” 

Ban lets him change the subject. Soon, they’re flicking on the light in Ban’s apartment and Yuki’s stumbling to the couch, ready to pass out after a woefully short nap on the train.

“At least shower,” comes Ban’s exasperated voice, but Yuki doesn’t budge, and Ban throws a blanket over him. “You’re hopeless,” he murmurs before ruffling Yuki’s hair, turning the light off, and disappearing into the bathroom. 

At 17, Yuki has learned not to put too much stock in other people’s words. The world is full of “fans” who love Re:vale’s appearances more than their music, shopkeepers who value conformity over artistry, former band members who would disrupt a performance to get even. Today, Yuki learns there are people who understand him even when he’s not singing, even when he’s not saying anything at all.

  


* * *

  


Ban’s note tells him to “sing freely.” It’s a joke, the worst joke Yuki’s heard in his 20 years of life, because how can Yuki sing without the one person who hears him?

(Yuki hasn’t sung since Ban vanished. He tried to, once, but his voice caught in his throat, choked him, words tearing the soft tissue of his throat until he swallowed them down and shut his mouth. Singing has become suffocating.) 

The answer comes in the form of a month-long begging spree. Yuki thinks he must be dreaming when Momo-kun appears, wide-eyed and shaking, at his door. Momo-kun is selfish. The way he looks at Yuki, day after day more like a lost puppy than a Mad Dog? Selfish. Yuki doesn’t want to see him look like that – not _this_ boy, this boy who resonates so deeply with his and Ban’s music. Momo-kun can’t bear for his dream to end. Doesn’t he know Re:vale ended the second Yuki refused Kujo’s proposal? Momo-kun wants him to sing again, just for five years, just as long as his Re:vale with Ban. 

_Momo-kun wants him to sing again._

The five years makes Momo-kun’s proposal easier to accept, but it’s those words that compel him to hold a sobbing Momo-kun until Ban’s neighbors peer at him in disapproval and he guides them both into Ban’s apartment. It’s those words, repeated over and over and over, that compel Yuki to agree to sing with Momo-kun.

It’s those words that make Yuki remember there is one more person who hears him. 

  


* * *

  


What with finding a new apartment, starting and stopping three part-time jobs, and enrolling Momo-kun in decent voice lessons, Yuki’s first few weeks with Momo-kun blur by. There are more things than music to consider now, namely how they’ll stay afloat without working Momo-kun to death. 

Uncertainty hangs over Yuki like a cloud, seeps into his compositions. Notes that formed the beginnings of a chorus lack the energy needed to drive the song, dissolving into an indecipherable sequence of symbols. The pain of losing Ban is a dull roar that rears its head when Momo-kun is asleep and Yuki’s bent over a lamp-lit desk. He wonders, sometimes, if he’s going crazy. Through it all, Momo-kun returns to their apartment describing the nice auntie who gave them free ingredients for a side dish, or the progress he made with his upper register, or the new job he can fit between his three other jobs.

How long can they last like this? 

“Yuki-san? I’m home.” 

Momo-kun’s voice jolts Yuki out of his stupor. He lifts his head from where it rests on a pile of blank sheet music and rubs at his cheek absently. Judging from the sunlight streaming through the window beside his desk, it’s mid-afternoon. Momo-kun is home early. 

“Welcome back,” he calls. His voice comes out scratchy. Momo-kun, popping his head into the room and scanning the crumpled sheets, shoots him a sympathetic smile. In the face of Momo-kun’s dark circles and slumped shoulders, the sympathy makes Yuki want to die a little. “Welcome back,” he tries again. 

Momo-kun bounds over to him, shrugging off his jacket and collapsing in a heap beside Yuki. Yuki watches as he rolls onto his back, spreading his arms and legs out like a starfish.

It’s uncommon for Momo-kun to show exhaustion, so Yuki braces himself for the worst (“Yuki-san, I can’t take this anymore” or “Can’t you find a job, too?” or “I don’t want to sing with you after all”) when he asks, “Did something happen at work?” 

To his surprise, no answer comes. Momo-kun gazes at the ceiling, eyes wide and searching. “Momo-kun?” he prompts. 

Momo-kun blinks rapidly, as if he’s coming out of a daze. “Hm?” he says. Yuki narrows his eyes and contemplates calling an ambulance. “No, nothing happened at work. Adachi-san sent me home early…” He trails off again. “I kept bagging the wrong items together, like meat with canned beans with veggies, and I forgot to wrap a glass bottle and it nearly broke. But Adachi-san was nice about it, told me to get some rest and make sure I wasn’t coming down with a cold. Sorry, Yuki-san.”

Yuki ignores the apology. “Are you not feeling well?” he asks. He rests a hand on Momo-kun’s forehead. The contact seems to ground Momo-kun in the present; he turns his head to face Yuki with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His forehead isn’t unusually warm, but Yuki leaves his hand there anyway. 

“Today’s my sister’s birthday,” Momo-kun says in answer. Yuki recalls, faintly, a girl with wavy black hair and a wide smile holding a homemade Ban fan. Momo-kun hasn’t mentioned her since they moved in together, and Yuki had thought maybe Momo-kun preferred to separate his family from his idol life. The way he can’t quite meet Yuki’s eyes suggests there’s more to that story, but he doesn’t offer further details. 

“Are you planning on celebrating with her?” Yuki asks awkwardly. Momo-kun doesn’t respond, just reaches a hand up, encircles Yuki’s wrist, and pulls it down so Yuki’s hand covers his eyes. 

Yuki doesn’t need an answer, when his palm grows moist with tears, to recognize the look of a boy who’s lost his best friend.

  


* * *

  


According to a general physician, ENT, and therapist, there is nothing physically preventing Momo from singing. 

“Forgive me for asking,” the therapist had said, eyes darting to Yuki, “but has anything changed recently between you and Yuki-san?” She had raised an eyebrow at Momo’s repeated refusals, and it hadn’t come down for the remainder of the session. Yuki had wondered why she’d insisted he attend the appointment, but he now knows the answer.

Momo comes over to Yuki’s apartment one evening, or Yuki forces him to by lifting his copy of _Dis One_ from his bag. (“I think I saw it at my place. Come over and I’ll cook something for us,” Yuki had said as they left the magazine shoot set. “It’s been a while.” He’d expected squeals of “Darling, so cool!” or perhaps “My darling is not only handsome, but generous, too?!” or even “Yuki, my heart nearly stopped!” but all Yuki gets is a thumbs up and “Is around 7 okay?” Yuki’s head had hurt, trying to figure out what that had meant.) 

As Yuki prepares tomato sukiyaki, Momo races around the apartment with a sort of frenetic energy. _Baby penguin_ , Yuki thinks fondly, before realizing that the reason Momo pauses to examine places with his belongings is to memorize the way his things look, mixed with Yuki’s. As if Yuki plans to disband their Re:vale if Momo can’t sing at their anniversary concert, as if Yuki could throw Momo away like he is nothing more than a business partner. 

It pisses him off, how Momo underestimates him. 

The anger sets his blood on fire, makes him clench his jaw and drop his knife. It clatters to the cutting board. Momo’s footsteps draw nearer, and he pokes his head into the kitchen and hurries over to Yuki. 

“Yuki, you didn’t cut yourself, did you?” 

_Not anger_ , Yuki thinks as he turns around and meets Momo’s uncertain gaze. _Frustration. Confusion. Hurt. You’re not supposed to believe I would give up on you._

Momo takes Yuki’s hands in his, turning them over one by one as he examines them for blood. “You’re all good, darling!” he cheers. Then, peering behind him, he asks, “Do you need my help to slice the tomatoes?” 

_No_ , Yuki wants to say. _You’re wrong, Momo. Nothing about this is good. I’m not good, not without you._

“No,” Yuki says. “I’ve got it.”

  


* * *

  


There’s an afterparty for Re:vale’s fifth anniversary showcase, and Yuki’s juniors and their managers and Momo and Okarin and _Ban_ fill the room with laughter and chatter. Flushed faces abound and Mitsuki-kun initiates a round of alcohol-affected karaoke. Despite the excitement of their performance, everyone is relieved it’s over and that all three groups have emerged relatively unscathed.

(Yuki would go through the danger of covering _Dis One_ a thousand times to find Ban. From the way Momo peeks at Ban from behind Yuki’s shoulder and whisper-shouts “It’s Ban-san… it’s Ban-san!”, Yuki thinks he would too.) 

He and Momo stay glued to Ban’s side the entire night. Ban is entirely too apathetic towards Yuki, but the familiarity of his dry humor and easy banter is a comfort after five years apart. The only difference is Momo. When Momo loops his arm through Yuki’s and plays with his fingers while Ban goes on a tangent about President Takanashi, Yuki sends Ban a telepathic message to the tune of: _You may have gotten his letter, but I have his love._ Ban rolls his eyes and smirks – _Momo-kun still stans one of us and it’s not you_ – and then Momo notices their conversation. He seems torn between jealousy and awe, from the way he puffs up his cheeks but shouts, “Communicating silently, as expected of Yuki-san and Ban-san!” with shining eyes. It’s adorable. 

Ban tries to escape with the minors after midnight, but Maneko-chan cheerfully offers to drive them home in his stead. 

“Please enjoy yourself with Yuki-san and Momo-san a little longer, Ogami-san!” she insists. 

“Nagi-kun, don’t you want me to drive you home? I’ll play Kokona-chan for you,” Ban offers, but the prospect of Magical Kokona falls short of Nagi-kun’s love for IDOLiSH7’s manager. There is laughter in Maneko-chan’s eyes as she herds the minors out the door.

 _Sorry, Gaku-kun_ , Yuki thinks, at his junior’s crestfallen expression. _We’ll throw another party where you can flirt with Maneko-chan._

The party winds down after the minors leave. After Ban swears on President Takanashi not to disappear again, Okarin drives them to Yuki’s place for the night. Both a little unsteady from a combination of alcohol and exhaustion, they don’t bother flipping on the lights when they reach the apartment. Yuki collapses onto his bed, watching as Momo draws the curtains but leaves a silver of moonlight visible. Momo hesitates at the window before facing Yuki; there’s worry in the way he bites his lip, along with something like resignation. 

“What are you waiting for?” Yuki asks, stretching an arm out. “Come here.” 

Momo slips beneath his arm and curls up on his side a few inches away. Yuki wraps his arm around Momo’s back – an inappropriate joke about being Momo’s most desired embrace flits across his mind – and scoots him closer until his alcohol-laced breath fans his face. Is it his imagination, or is Momo’s face a little redder than it was a second ago?

“A couple hours with Ban and you’ve reverted to shy Momo-kun,” Yuki whispers. “Is this the power of a top idol? Maybe I should hide for five years, too.” 

Momo reaches a hand up and tugs at a piece of Yuki’s hair, indignant. “Don’t you dare! This heart can’t take your teasing,” he pouts. “My darling’s so mea—” 

Momo’s lips are soft against his. Yuki swallows Momo’s surprised gasp, traces his lips with his tongue and nips at his upper lip. Momo yields readily to Yuki’s hunger, running his fingers through Yuki’s hair and bringing his hand to a rest at the base of Yuki’s neck. He tangles his legs in between Yuki’s and Yuki uses the hand that’s not cradling Momo’s cheek to nudge him closer, until he feels Momo’s heart beating through the thin cotton of his tee. “Yuki,” Momo moans between breaths, as Yuki tilts his chin up to suck at the sensitive underside of Momo’s jaw. With uncharacteristic willpower, Yuki pulls back far enough to press his forehead against Momo’s. They stay like that, eyes cloudy and pulses racing, for a few breaths.

“I love you, Momo,” Yuki blurts. It’s not the first time he’s said it – that ship sailed years ago – but it holds a new weight with the knowledge that Ban is back. “We found Ban, isn’t it a miracle? Let’s continue Re:vale forever, Momo.”

Momo sniffles and Yuki brushes away the tears gathering in the corners of Momo’s eyes and then they’re both clutching at each other and crying, just a little – and then a lot.

Yuki has only ever wanted other people to love his music. The sound of his voice soaring on a chorus, chasing the notes of his guitar – it had given him agency in a way that speaking never could. At his lowest, singing had made him feel heard, understood, accepted. It had brought him to Ban, who understands him without words, and to Momo, who listens for his voice like he hangs the stars. Yuki’s words – awkward and stilted and weak – are loved. 

At 26, watching Momo smile at him through his tears, Yuki learns that some things are better left said after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Yuki actually calls Momo a baby penguin in Part 5 of Momo's Wonderful Octave rabbit chat, which I read translated by osakaso5 on Tumblr!


End file.
